Moon
by Calm Envy
Summary: A cold winter's night: Malik thinks he's alone beneath the starless skies. But a stranger comes along with a self-satisfied smirk and a pocketful of attitude. Who is he, and why does he seem so familiar? Swearing. Shonen-ai. Sequel to Sun.


_A cold winter's night: Malik thinks he's alone beneath the starless skies. But a stranger comes along with a self-satisfied smirk and a pocketful of attitude. Who is he, and why does he seem so familiar? Shonen-ai. Sequel to Sun._

**Rating: **T**  
Genre: **Mystery, romance.**  
Disclaimer: **Obviously I don't own Yuugiou.  
**Warnings:** Swearing. Kissy kissy.

**Author's Note:**Oh Anubis, this has been four months in the making. _Sun_? I actually started that January last year. If you want to actually understand what is happening here, I suggest you go read that first. I loved little _Sun_. This, this is just dark and twisted. But I like that too.

If you're the kind of impressionable person that starts smoking because you see it on TV or read it in a book, turn back now. Oh, the evils of media.

* * *

**Moon**

It was cold. Fuck…it was cold. He pulled the coat a little closer to his shivering body, but it didn't provide much warmth. Goddamn Domino winters. The asphalt roads had become gigantic black glacial snakes – and were just as deadly, as some had discovered. The lampposts, they were covered with the kind of icy slick that would rip your tongue off and leave a bloody mess. Well, some kids enjoy licking them.

It was a cold winter night, and he had been standing alone for nearly twenty-eight minutes beneath the starless skies. The wind was howling in quiet mourn.

"Ah." The voice was so low it was almost lost in the darkness. "You think– you can share that light?"

"Sure." Malik pulled out the lighter without thinking, and turned to the boy next to him. The streetlamp cast a feeble, half-hearted glow and it was hard to see him. Anyway, his face was mostly obscured by wild white bangs. His thin body, enveloped in a black trench-coat.

"Thanks," he replied hoarsely. "Now– all I need is a cigarette."

Man, he had some nerve. Malik pulled out the box with a single gloved hand, and fished one out.

"Here." His reply was curt. He pointedly stared across the street. Somebody else might've known better and just walked away from the guy, but Malik was trying to have a quiet smoke, and he wasn't fucking moving.

Draw in a pale breath. The wind toyed with the smoke momentarily before whipping it away. Malik raised the cigarette to his lips again, hand trembling for some reason. It must've been the cold but– no. It was the presence of the strange boy beside him.

It was hypocritical, Malik knew. He wanted the boy to keep his mouth shut and not piss him off anymore than he already had. Yet at the same time, the silence set him on edge. "So…uh…what are you doing out here on a night like this?"

"I killed somebody."

"Okay then." Malik didn't find the joke particularly amusing, given what had happened to his parents a couple of Christmases back.

"Oh, but you don't believe me? Here's the blood." And Malik almost choked on his own horror. The boy was waving a hand in front of his face, which had been stained a dark crimson.

"You– what the fuck are you–? What the hell?"

The boy observed Malik's expression, and began to laugh. Short, staccato barks that knifed the air. Threw his head back and everything.

"I'm kidding. I was in a fight." He wiped his hand on his trench coat carelessly. Rather needlessly, he added, "I won."

"Good for you." What kind of person had he just met? Malik's pulse ran a little faster, and his cheeks grew hot in spite of the chill wind. He took a deep drag to calm himself down.

The boy threw his own cigarette on the ground and crushed it beneath a battered canvas sneaker.

"What the hell?" Malik repeated. "There was plenty left."

"Life's short." It didn't really explain anything at all. "That was awful. I need to clear my lungs."

Malik had a cutting response on the tip of his tongue, but he held it back. He watched as the boy crossed his arms, uncrossed them, leaned against the streetlight, tucked his hands in his pockets. Finally he closed his eyes.

When his eyes were shut, he seemed younger and more innocent. Kind of like–

Malik gasped aloud, and the boy opened one eye in irritation. "What? Did you see a ghost?"

_Yes._

"No– no, it's not that. I just thought you looked like somebody I used to know." Because now that that baleful crimson eye was glaring at him, Malik saw that he had been mistaken. The eye colour and shape was wrong, the face more pointed; in fact the boy's whole person seemed to be all sharp angles.

His heart ached involuntarily as he recalled Ryou's soft, heart-shaped face. Time couldn't erase a face like that from his memories. The things he (hadn't) done, the words he (hadn't) spoken; they were the greatest regrets of his life.

"What the fuck?" the boy snarled abruptly, breaking Malik's reverie. "Can't you keep your eyes off of me or something?"

"Sorry," Malik mumbled, ducking his head. Then, "Hey, just what is _your_ problem? I gave you one of my cigarettes, didn't I?"

"Yeah, and it probably gave me bloody lung cancer."

"You're a really unpleasant guy, you know."

"Fuck off. I can't be that unpleasant that you're eyeball raping me…but considering my good looks, I can't blame you!" He laughed again.

Malik repressed a smile. Sure the boy was a complete asshole who couldn't seem to make up his mind about anything, but he was interesting… Weird, interesting, they were interchangeable words really.

He surreptitiously peeked at the boy again, as he played with the cigarette in his hand. He almost felt attracted to him: he was good-looking in an aloof way, and the resemblance to Ryou did, truthfully, warm his heart a little. If only it _were_ Ryou, he'd pluck it straight out and offer it to him.

Malik suddenly felt the mobile phone in his pocket buzz twice, and he sighed, forgetting his train of thought. _Shit_. Where was the bus? Otogi was going to be pissed if he wasn't there soon. Malik had assumed the guy would be late. Jesus, he seemed to change his outfit five times a day; seven times if he was going out at all.

Fuck it. He should probably just walk. It wasn't that far to Jonouchi's. Malik glanced once more at the boy, almost shyly, but refused to say goodbye or acknowledge him in any other way. He turned to leave.

And a hand roughly took his.

" –What?"

"Did you miss me?"

Malik's breath hitched. The voice was hissing harshly beside him, the hot breath tickling the side of his face. Suddenly he found the boy's other arm snaking around his waist to pull him in. They were pressed together, chest to chest, _oh so close_, and it felt as if the boy was never going to let go.

"H-how could I miss somebody I've never met before?" Malik asked huskily when he regained some semblance of confidence. It was fucking hard pretending when all your knees wanted to do was give way.

He felt the boy's lips curve into a smirk against his ear. "That's where you're wrong."

"W-what? I've–"

His protests stopped as the boy's lips trailed down to his neck. Malik felt his scarf being tugged away, and he gasped as the wind bit at the exposed flesh. Soon, the cold was replaced with a pleasant warmth as his skin was met by tongue. A long, slow lick along his collarbone. Soft sucking. Unthinking, Malik sighed quietly. _Oh god._ This was wrong. He should push him away or something. What the fuck was he thinking letting a complete stranger do this to him in public?

_Ah_, but they were alone. Somebody could have come out and seen them – in fact they certainly would have had Malik shouted – but he didn't. He dropped the cigarette he had been holding by his side like a fool and moved his hands upwards, upwards… They were clasping the boy's face. The boy looked up at him, eyes dancing with wicked delight. With a smirk, he raised his head and brought their lips together.

The boy bit Malik's bottom lip, and the young blond parted his mouth all too obligingly. He felt a tongue dip inside and brush his own. To Malik's surprise, the boy tasted sweet, just like bubblegum, but how could that be when he'd just been sm–?

"You're not Ryou," Malik blurted, pushing the boy away from him.

A look of irritation crossed the boy's features. "You fool. Of course I'm not."

"Wait– what?" Why was he surprised, when he couldn't have expected any other answer?

"I'm _Bakura_," the boy replied, self-satisfied. The word left his tongue and lay thick in the air around them.

Malik stared. Bakura. It had to be more than coincidence. _But that was impossible._

Bakura looked back at him appraisingly, eyes half-lidded. Slowly, they shut, and he let his mouth split into a smirk. "H-heh heh. You haven't grown up at all. Still, I suppose you never needed to, did you?"

And then Bakura, oh Bakura, he turned around and slunk away. He faded into darkness, as the glaring lights of an approaching bus lit up the scene. Malik wondered if he should follow him. Every voice in him screamed _yesyouidiotfuckingYES!_, but his uncertain feet stayed rooted to the ground. Malik closed his eyes and struggled to collect his thoughts.

By the looks of things, _Bakura_–whoever he was, he seemed more than capable of finding him. After all, he had come back after all these years.

So instead, Malik reluctantly watched his figure recede into the night. The wind was icy upon his still moist lips, and he shivered. That wasn't the only thing Bakura had left behind. Malik's left glove was bloodied. He wiped his cheek with his clean glove – a little blood there too.

It occurred to him, suddenly, that his childhood friend was dead. Replaced by an imposter. He wanted to shove the ugly thought into the darkest corner of his mind. If he replayed the old events in his mind, he didn't know what would– No, he couldn't. Not now.

Tomorrow he'd be depressed and cry for everything bad that had ever happened. All the memories, the wonderful and painful, would pierce into his heart like a thousand knives.

But not now. In this moment, he would contemplate only the kiss. Malik stepped on his spent cigarette as he moved towards the bus. _That kiss_, he thought determinedly. There wasn't much you could say about it really, except–

Fuck it had been good.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Oh my Ryou. All tough, la la la. -gentle sigh- Hnn. While I do adore this baby, I can't help but feel wistful. Did I alienate anybody? Which writing style did you prefer? Drop a review, lovelies.


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